


A Summer Ball

by adozenbottledtales



Category: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo | Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
Genre: Edmond is an idiot, F/M, Happy Ending, Love, Mercedes is not, That damn garden scene, i'm not over it, maybe whomp?, whomp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22322665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adozenbottledtales/pseuds/adozenbottledtales
Summary: Since nobody else is writing this, I hecking will.Edmond is at Fernands ball, Mercedes recognises him. Edmond is an idiot and Mercedes is not having it.I swear it's softer than this, I'm just mad I had to write it.Mercedes talks Edmond out of ignoring her, softness and happiness ensues.Also; Haydee who?
Relationships: Edmond Dantès/Mercédès Mondego
Kudos: 1





	A Summer Ball

CoMC Fanfic

The Countess flung the grapes into the nearest thicket, with a gesture of despair.  
"Inflexible man!" she murmured. Wringing her hands the Countess kept walking, her shoulders set, only the constant movement of her hands betraying her distress.  
"Countess?" Upon Monte Cristo's prompt the Countess spun around and stepped back up to him. It was impossible to tell whether he recoiled from the speed of her advance of the cold burning desperation nestled only in her eyes.  
"We are quite alone, Count, so I implore you to be as truthful as your heart and your past allows." The County's face hardened and something was lost that Mme de Morcerf could only now recognise as vulnerable affection that is was gone. This have her courage even as he stepped back and stilled her hands with a reserved touch.  
"You seem distressed. Would you rather we return inside were we can attend to you?" Mme de Morcerf smiled and twisted her hands so that she was now holding his, holding him in place in the garden.  
"The only distress to be attended to needs nothing but your words as an answer to questions that have been burning on my tongue for twenty years." The Count made another courteous attempt to distance himself from Mme de Morcerf, trying to flee her steel gaze, but her hands held his firmly betraying a strength that came from work not suited to her position.  
"Madame," he began, but she cut him short, placing a finger on his lips, still staring into his eyes. When she spoke again, her voice was low and even out here in danger of drowning in the soft murmur of the crowd.  
"Fernand said you'd been executed," she said, her voice trembling with distress long past but never forgotten. The Counts shoulders set and her looked upon her coldly.  
"Madame, I do not know what you speak of. Please allow me to return you to the Viscounts side."  
"Why didn't you return?" Mercedes continued as if he'd never spoken. At this the Count snapped and finally the blank composure dropped to reveal damp fury coiled around a broken heart. It took her breath away.  
"And return to what? The grave if a father dead of grief. The office of a man ruined by the greed of other men, yet kind to the very end? Or the empty house of a woman with a free heart, who chose to pass it on?" It was all Mercedes could do not to smile. Tears welled in her eyes and her grip on his hands softened. He was free to go. He did not.


End file.
